Narda Beauchamp, one of several close friends known as “Team Terry” at Rose Arbor Hospice Residence, had faithfully posted online updates on Kuseske’s condition over the good and the challenging days of his struggle with cancer.

Monday had been one of the challenging ones, Beauchamp wrote.

“He dealt with it with grace, as always, but he whispers prayers of planning to go home soon,” Beauchamp posted. “He whispers he is ready ... but I know those details are between him and God and we have no way of predicting.”

It had been a year of triumph and tragedy for the retired social studies teacher who began his political career in his native Dowagiac as a Cass County commissioner from 1978 to 1982, moving to Kalamazoo a dozen years ago and accepting appointment to a new Public Safety review board that gave residents a new oversight role.

Kuseske, who was gay, became active in gay/lesbian issues here, eventually heading the Kalamazoo Alliance for Equality that first proposed an ordinance to ban sexual orientation or gender-identity discrimination in Kalamazoo housing, employment and access to public accommodations.

Kuseske had told friends that Nov. 3, 2009 was one of the happiest days of his life when he was elected to the Kalamazoo City Commission and city voters passed the anti-discrimination measure.

“What a night!!,” Kuseske had posted on his Facebook page after the votes were counted. “I am so proud to be the newest Kalamazoo city commissioner.”

It was about a month after his swearing in that Kuseske sought medical treatment for nagging back pain. When the usual treatment failed, more tests were conducted. Then came the unexpected diagnosis — pancreatic cancer.

Kuseske didn’t immediately make his medical condition public, continuing his meeting schedule and community responsibilities. In March, he announced that he would have surgery in Detroit to remove a tumor on his pancreas.

Doctors were unable to remove the growth; Kuseske underwent chemotherapy and radiation, hoping to shrink the cancer. However, within weeks tests showed the insidious cells had spread.

Beauchamp said Thursday she had lost “an honorable and loyal friend.”

“Our community will always have the inspiration and compassion he gave us to live our lives authentically,” said his friend. “And he encouraged us to work every day for fairness, equality and peace.”

Whether it was from the city hall dais or watching televised commission proceedings from his hospice bed, Kuseske remained engaged in city business. At times his presence required colleagues to assist him home due to his weakened condition.

Kalamazoo Mayor Bobby Hopewell said Thursday that Kuseske “brought passion and a commitment to the residents of the city of Kalamazoo.” During their last visit, Hopewell said Kuseske talked about “maintaining city services during this prolonged economic downturn.”

Kuseske typically arrived early to meetings, making a point to chat with people in the audience and hug friends he encountered.

Praise for his personable style came from several political fronts Thursday. At the close of the Kalamazoo Planning Commission meeting, vice chairman Mark Fricke lauded the former planning chairman as a “passionate advocate who listens and understands every side.”

City commission colleague Stephanie Bell said Kuseske’s short time on the dais made the policy group “stronger and more connected.”

The Rev. Matthew Laney, pastor of Kalamazoo’s First Congregational United Church of Christ, got to know Kuseske when both campaigned for the anti-discrimination ordinance. Laney called Kuseske “a great champion for equality and a drum major for justice.”

“His ability to connect with people, frame important issues in a reasoned and patient manner and work tirelessly behind the scenes made him an ideal community leader,” Laney said.

Funeral arrangements, which were pending Thursday night, are being handled by Langeland Family Funeral Homes, Westside Chapel, Oshtemo Township.

Kuseske’s friends said Thursday that his religious faith was apparent throughout his health battle. It was that faith that bonded him earlier this year with two colleagues more often seen together in their secular, public roles.

Bell remembers receiving a phone call from City Commissioner Barbara Miller shortly after Kuseske shared his diagnosis with his colleagues.

“’Stephanie, would you come to meet with Terry and me and pray?’ ” Bell recalled Miller asking. “I went there and we prayed for him. I always called his hugs my sanctifying sugar.”